


Sprout and the Bean

by we_are_all_irrelivant



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: M/M, its gay !, this wasnt supposed to b this long but ! well here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 14:38:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13192188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_all_irrelivant/pseuds/we_are_all_irrelivant
Summary: !! this was my sidlink secret santa gift for melancholyhomo on tumblr !!! happy holidays n i hope u like it !!!! >;0 !!!!!!!





	Sprout and the Bean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [breadstickparty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breadstickparty/gifts).



> this is named after a joanna newsom song tht i thought fit the tone of th fic rly well UoU  
> [u shuld giv it a listen .. if u can](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=47yuiPK01kg)

When Link awoke, there was a chill in the air, leaching into his skin despite the old home’s admittedly lethargic heating and the multitude of blankets he was buried under and swaddled within. Link drew his limbs in closer to himself, huffed out a chattering breath and pressed closer to the warm form still slumbering beside him. Its face was hidden, obscured by the masses of plush blankets and bedding between and about them, but his wild, fiery hair spilled across his pillow, seeming to flow from a spot in the blankets like a river. Link brought his stiff fingers to his mouth, exhaled a soft, slow breath over them to limber them back up, a slow smile spreading across his lips. 

 

Link sat up after a few moments, gathering his resolve to sit up, unprotected by the covers,  in the frosty air of their bedroom. His hands came to clasp over his naked arms when he did, goosebumps immediately springing up on his bare skin. Crisp, pale morning light streamed into the room, painted everything in a stark, sharp edged clarity. When Link looked out the window, he was startled to see only white, so bright in combination with the sun it almost hurt his eyes. Link rose from the bed, pushed back the blankets and unfolded his stiff legs, toes curling instinctively at the chill of the wood floors. He padded over to the window, and gently pushed apart the slats. When he saw the source of his confusion, he couldn’t hold back his audible gasp.

 

It had snowed overnight. And rather heavily so, evidently. Everything had been covered in a thick white blanket, smooth and perfect. Every sharp edge had been softened, wrapped in cold cotton, every object as though it had been replaced by a pure white inflated caricature of itself, snow piled on and clinging to even the thinnest of branches. Everything seemed to glitter in the crisp sunlight, twinkling and glimmering at every turn of Link’s head with chilled, breathtaking beauty. Link’s breath fogged the glass before him.

 

Something stirred excitedly within Link. He’d seen plenty of snow in his days, but he’d spent a good portion of his childhood in Hateno, further south than where the two now lived, too far, most years, for much more than a few thin inches of snow that always sat on the roads for too long until it turned into ugly grey slush and ice that soaked your shoes if you stood in it too long. He didn’t necessarily feel he had been robbed of anything as a child, and he knew he ought to have grown out of such childlike wonder at his age, but he simply couldn’t deny the excitement he still felt when it snowed so heavily. He perked up further, suddenly remembered Sidon still asleep on the bed. It took everything in him to keep himself from dashing to the bed and leaping onto it, and when he’d settled back into their warm nest of blankets, his excitement manifested in a subtle, contented wiggling of his hips. 

 

The commotion of him getting back into bed was enough to rouse Sidon, his broad form stirring and swelling as he came into wakefulness. The mass of crimson hair shifted and tumbled away as its owner moved, and from the swath of blankets Link saw peel open a narrow golden eye, fixed on his face. Link bent forward, lying back down so he was parallel to Sidon. The other man stretched stiffly, eyes squeezed shut, pushing away the blankets about his face. His eyes met Link’s when he opened them again, groggy gaze so contented to see him, so full already of bubbling affection. 

 

“Hi,” Sidon breathed, voice rough and low from sleep.

 

“Hi.” Link couldn’t help the smile that curled across his lips. 

 

Sidon reached for him, arms winding easily around him and pulling him to his body. Link let him, pressed happily into his embrace, head tucked safely beneath his chin, hands coming to encircle his wide chest. Heat radiating from him, caught and held and reflected back by the blankets surrounding them chased away any vestiges of cold in him, reddened his cheeks and lifted his fluttering heart. Link lifted his hands to find Sidon’s face, gently flattened them against his cheeks. He easily guided his face down, pressed forward himself to kiss him sweetly. Sidon grinned against his mouth, arms tightening around him, bringing him closer into him, closer into his warmth. When they broke apart, Sidon pursed his lips against the tip of Link’s nose, gentle and slow, mouth curling into another smile at the soft lilting giggle it teased from Link’s throat.

 

“It snowed last night,” Link whispered, angling his face forward and down to gingerly press their foreheads together.

 

“Did it? How much?” Sidon shifted to sit up, one hand lingering on Link as he did. 

 

“A good couple inches, at least. Enough that the roads’ll still be a mess, I'm sure.” When Link sat up, Sidon’s gaze was already trained on the window. Link placed a hand over one of Sidon’s own, curled his fingers to grip it gently. Sidon let him lift it, bring the knuckles to his lips and kiss them softly. Sidon hummed to himself, eyes reflecting the blistering white of the window. 

 

“So it has,” he murmured. He cut his eyes to Link. “I’m sure you’re not telling me just to tell me,” he added teasingly. 

 

Link pressed Sidon’s hand to his mouth, gazed up at him with wide, round eyes. “They wouldn’t miss you at the office. Not on a day like this.”

 

Sidon took control of his hand, laid his palm flat against Link’s cheek. “You know I can’t just stay home whenever I want,” he said, thumb smoothing over the soft pink skin. Link sagged visibly, mouth twisting into a dejected pout. He raised his hand to lay it over Sidon’s. He softened his gaze further, lightened his touch, pleading wordlessly with him. Sidon let him continue for a few moments more, until his eyebrows had come together on his forehead and his bottom lip had just begun to push out, and then grinned. “But I suppose I  _ do _ have a few sick days I can use. And you’re right, there won’t be hardly anyone there anyhow, not in this weather.” Sidon smiled wider, a soft, musical chuckle curling from his throat at how quickly Link’s face lit up. He leaned forward to press a kiss to his precious lips. “Let me get showered and let’s have some breakfast, and then we can go out.”

 

* * *

 

 

Link stood at the window again, the sound of the shower fading into a hazy din as he gazed at the glimmering snow covered yard. He thought he may never grow tired of the amount of detail snow seemed to preserve in the scenes it blanketed, even the eyes of the ceramic frog planter in the next door neighbor’s yard visible as rounded mounds. He loved the look of this freshly fallen stuff, everything about it so clean and crisp and tidy. It almost seemed to add to the joy of stepping into it, probably some deep-rooted satisfaction with messing up something so neat. Link was pulled from his thoughts by the creak of the bathroom door, the sudden, subtle mugginess on his skin from the shower’s steam. Sidon’s hands were hot on his waist as he came to stand behind him. He found his hair was still swept up in a towel when he craned his head back to look at his face. 

 

“Thank you,” Link murmured, hand resting on Sidon’s wide forearm. “For staying and everything.”

 

“It’s quite alright. I think it’s cute how much you enjoy it. And I haven’t gotten to truly enjoy the snow myself in a few years. It’ll be refreshing.” Sidon wrapped his arms around Link, squeezed him tight enough to pull a giggle from him. “And I’d  _ much _ rather spend the whole day with my husband than be inside that stuffy old office.” He ducked his head down to press his lips to Link’s neck. “Let’s get some breakfast in you.”

 

In the kitchen, Link yet found his attention divided between the omelette he was making them and the vast white expanse visible out the back door. He thought of the snap of the cold around him, the blush it would call up on his pale cheeks, the refreshing way it would fill his lungs as soon as he stepped outside. The way it would crunch beneath their feet, the way it would shine.

 

“Link?”

 

Sidon was beside him, rummaging for something for them to drink in the tea cupboard. He smiled at the way Link blinked as he snapped back into reality, looked down and remembered with a start the omelette on the stove. Sidon said nothing as he selected a box of black tea, pausing to press a kiss to the top of Link’s head. He poured out two mugs of hot water, set each to steeping as Link finished the omelette. When it was finished, Link split it in two, slid each half onto a plate and handed one to Sidon, who exchanged it for the milk and sugar he knew Link liked in his tea. Link hoisted himself up onto the counter, set his mug beside him and his plate on his lap. Sidon came to lean on the counter beside him. The two ate their informal breakfast in contented silence, tearing off bits of egg with tea-warmed fingers. 

 

Link all but leapt to his feet when he had finished, swept his dishes hastily into the sink. By the time Sidon had finished his own food, he was already at the coat closet, sifting through their basket of gloves. He’d already dressed in a few thick layers, a couple of sweaters that, when he pulled on his puffy down coat, made him look like something of a forest green marshmallow, and a pair of thermal leggings under his plush, fleece lined snow pants. He swept his hair up to tuck it into his fur lined hat, wound a scarf around his neck and then sat on the first step of the stairs to tug on his snow boots. When he looked up Sidon was buttoning up his own coat. He padded over to the back door as he waited for him to dress, excitement manifesting in the impatient drum of his fingers on the chilled glass. He leaned his forehead against it, huffing out a slow breath that fogged the glass. He pulled off one of his thick gloves, traced a small heart in the middle.

 

“Are you ready?”

 

Sidon was behind him, bundled up securely in his own gear. The unusual rotund shape of his body brought a smile to Link’s lips behind his scarf. He nodded, slipping his glove back on and reaching to open the door.

 

The air seemed tighter in the snow, harder and sharper, narrowing his eyes immediately and reddening his cheeks. Link buried his chin and mouth deeper into his scarf, shivering stiffly as he stepped into the fresh powder, cold leaching back to nip weakly at the bottoms of his ears. He stepped gingerly out onto the snow blanketed porch, breath bated and awed at the splendor of it all. A gentle breeze blew, skated minuscule, glittery bits of snow and ice across the ground. Before them stretched the vast white expanse of the yard, perfectly untouched by a single blemish or footprint. It caught the light much better without the glass of the window, seemed to shimmer as though it had been coated in glitter. Link turned back to look at Sidon, eyes wide and sparkling.

 

Sidon couldn’t keep his growing smile off his face. He stepped beside Link, heat rolling off him like a furnace, drawing Link to lean minutely towards him. “What would you like to do first?”

 

Link reached over, gently took Sidon’s gloved hand in his and walked out into the yard, padding towards the thin line of trees at the edge of the property. This extra land almost seemed silly for them to have with the house, with neither kids nor pets to make use of it; it almost seemed it was there just to make mowing the lawn in the summer even more of a chore. But it certainly had its advantages at times; this was no exception. The snow was, as Link had expected, fairly deep; his foot sank an inch or two into it with each step, the stuff coming to cover the tops of his boots. He traipsed into the trees, his grip on Sidon steady.

 

The woods, usually so vibrant and bursting with life it could revive you just to stand amidst them, were lifeless, every tree a barren skeleton, stiff frozen branches stretching crookedly into the sky. Snow had been plastered into the crooks and nannies in the bark, made to pile up some inches against the base of many of their trunks. There grew, struggling the rest of the year beneath the canopies of the broadleaf trees, a few thin evergreen saplings and shrubs; on their needles clung cottony clumps of snow, decorated as the perfect archetypal christmas tree. These woods were soft and silent, life suspended, muted for a bit by the snow and the cold. The only warm, living, moving things were them, working slowly up the gentle slope of the land. Hot breaths tumbled from mouths and fogged in the air in a lovely sort of giddy solidarity. Hands clasped tighter, minds cursing silently the accursed, sensation-stealing fabric between their skin.

 

They reached the other side of the woods. They stood some hundred feet from the foot of one slowly curving side of a wildflower knoll. Some yards away, a squirrel had dashed across the field, leaving a shallow set of prints. Link turned to look up at Sidon. His cheeks, what of them he could see with the way he had tugged his scarf over his mouth, as well as the tip of his nose were red beneath his cinnamon skin, but his eyes were yet clear and attentive as they met his. A chilling breeze picked up just then, whistled through the branches too loud for Link to shout over. He lifted his hands instead.

 

_ Snowman _ , he signed. 

 

He could tell Sidon was smiling behind his scarf when he padded away to kneel and pack a fistful of snow into his palm. He heard Sidon walk away, footsteps retreating the way they had came. He was probably off to look for arms. Link busied himself with packing on as much snow to his snowball as he could, before it became too big to hold in his hands. He put it on the ground, gently pushed it about with his foot until it was big enough to steer with his hands. Once it was sufficiently large, tall enough to reach his knees, he started a second ball, and once that was done, a third. By the time Sidon returned, a small fortune of sticks of various lengths and thicknesses in his arms, Link was standing before his three creations, hands on his hips as he contemplated how to assemble them. He thought they might be easy enough to lift, but he didn’t want to risk breaking one of them in two. Sidon considered the problem for a few moments, then set down his pile.

 

“It would be more stable if we both lifted it, I think,” he offered. 

 

“It’s worth a try,” Link said with a shrug. He stepped over to the second snowball, worked his hands beneath it as Sidon took position on its other side. Together, they lifted it, hands splayed wide on the bottom to keep its weight from ripping it apart, and placed it with a soft huff on the first snowball. Link bent to catch up a fistful of snow, spread it at the seam of the two balls, explaining to Sidon it was to act as glue and keep it stable. Link easily placed the last ball on top, fussing with it for a bit to make sure it was straight. Sidon watched him turn, bend down to mull over the selection of sticks he had found. He picked two of the thicker ones, both branched at the ends to make three crooked fingers. He pushed them into the sides of the center of the snowman, twisted them to make sure they stuck. He stepped back to admire their work for a moment. His eyebrows knit together on his face a second later, a few white snowflakes clinging to the hairs.

 

“Eyes…” Link murmured. Link looked around for a bit, then took off wading through the snow back towards the trees. Sidon followed him, a little ways into the woods until they reached the small, lazy stream that wound through the woods from the drainage pipe a few hundred feet away. It was frozen now, thick with ice and snow, but once Link had kicked enough of it away he found the water-smoothed stones he’d been searching for. He picked a few of them from the snow, clutched them in his palm and poured a few of them into Sidon’s. He hurried back to the snowman as fast as his heavy, snow packed boots would allow him, sifted through the fistful of stones he had until he found two good sized rust red ones. He pushed them into the snowman’s head, smoothed the snow around them once he had. He pressed the rest of his stones into a wide, curved smile, grabbing from Sidon’s stash once he ran out of his own. Once it was all done, Link stepped back, gently reached to hook his arm into Sidon’s.

 

“He looks good,” Sidon said confidently.

 

“Our son,” Link murmured, resting his head on Sidon’s arm. 

 

“Our son,” Sidon repeated with a nod. “He looks just like you.” 

 

Link smiled, let his eyes fall shut for a moment. He turned his face gently, pressed his lips to the cold sleeve of Sidon’s coat. He peeled open an eye to gaze up at Sidon. His eyes were squinted further in the cold, and his face had only gotten redder since they’d been outside, but he still seemed happy. Link’s heart turned in his chest. He slipped off one of his gloves, tucked it carefully into his pocket and reached for Sidon’s. Sidon let him pull his off as well, gingerly lacing their fingers together.

 

“Both our hands will get cold,” Sidon mused, letting Link Link only shook his head, raised their clasped hands to his lips, gently purse his lips against Sidon’s knuckles. His hand was already chilled on the back, pinpricks of cold leaching into his skin, running a little ways up his wrist, but he didn’t mind; he had missed the press of Sidon, his skin, his warmth, against him. Link turned his gaze to the field before them, the gently sloping land. He tugged Sidon forward, marching steadily toward the top of the hill. Somewhere beyond their perfect little sphere, a bird cried out over the sound of their footsteps, clear and warbling in the crisp, sharp air. Halfway up the slope, Link let Sidon take his hand back, his own knuckles so numb he could hardly bend them. The climb was short and easy. When the ground plateaued Link stopped, gazing out over the other side of the mound. Sidon joined him a few moments later, let his now gloved hand find his again. 

 

There were more woods here, undeveloped land on the edge of the housing development in which they lived. The woods were denser here, trees healthier away from human interaction, much more diverse in speciation. It was here that the evergreens they had seen earlier seemed to reign, snow dusted tips reaching mightily for the heavens, wide bases leaving round barren swathes where the snow had not fallen. There ran along the base of it the same twisting stream they had seen earlier, its course frozen into a thin, shimmering ribbon of ice. Link could only stare in wonder, eyes wide and awed at the beauty of it all. His cheeks stung numbly in the cold. His moist breath tumbled into the fabric of his scarf, pulled back up to protect his chin; its heat remained as he exhaled, spread across his mouth and warmed his lips. He swung his awed gaze up to Sidon again. The cherry of his cheeks darkened when he found he’d already been looking down at him, eyes warm and amused. Neither had to say a word as Sidon slid an arm gingerly about Link’s waist, gently pulled him flush against his body. Link leaned his cheek minutely into Sidon’s hot palm as he reached to pull down his scarf, pressed his bare hand Link’s chilled cheek as he guided his soft mouth against his own. Link found his hands curled in the front of Sidon’s coat. The kiss was a slow, sweet thing, stirring and heated by Sidon’s proximity, his hand against his numb cheek, the hot breath from his nose ghosting over face. It seemed to warm Link, stirring and churning some feverish joy in his heart, driving the chill from his limbs.

 

* * *

 

When the two finally stumbled back inside, they were both chilled to the bone. They had continued exploring their little stretch of woods for a good while longer, until Sidon noticed the tremble in Link’s hands, the soft shudder in his breath. Link had tried to protest, claiming he’d be fine, but he couldn’t deny how good it felt to be back within the balmy air of their home as he stripped himself of his gear, the heating having finally caught up to the thermostat in the time they had been gone. Sidon undressed quickly, disappeared into the depths of the house as Link sat to pull off his boots, fingers made dumb from the cold. When he returned, his arms were full of thick, fluffy blankets from the linen closet. Link accepted them graciously, sitting cross legged on the couch and wrapping one tightly around his still shivering form.

 

“You look like you could use some hot chocolate,” he murmured, pausing to press a kiss to Link’s cool forehead.

 

“Yes, please,” Link said, rubbing his cheek against the comforter around him.

 

Sidon smiled against his skin. He pursed his lips against his forehead once more before he straightened up to go to the kitchen. Link watched him go, pulling his blanket tighter around him. A moment later, he unfolded himself from the couch, padding to their bedroom. He stripped off his soaked and chilled clothes for drier warmer ones, and pulled on a pair of plush house socks. When he returned to the living room, Sidon was just setting down two mugs of hot chocolate, piled high with whipped cream and marshmallows, steam curling tantalizingly from them. Link slid under the blanket beside Sidon, already seated on the couch and flipping through their collection of DVDs. Link pressed into him, his heat seemingly unhampered all this time by the chill of the outdoors. Link reached for his mug, numb fingers tingling as they touched the heated ceramic. The drink was hot and delicious on his tongue, rich and smooth and sweet, running a vein of warmth through him as he drank.

 

“A fire would be nice,” Link murmured, tongue coming to swipe whipped cream from his upper lip.

 

“You think?” Sidon mused, spreading out a few cases before them.

 

Link nodded, resting his head on Sidon’s shoulder. “This one.” 

 

Sidon set aside the other movies, gently brushed some of Link’s bangs from his forehead. The tips of his fingers were still cool to the touch. “That  _ would _ be nice. We could turn off the lights, get a couple more blankets. It’d be rather cozy.”

 

Link nodded again, turned his face to press his mouth to his neck. He felt him move beneath him, starting to rise to put the movie in, but he grabbed his arm to stop him, whined softly in his throat. When Sidon turned to look at him, Link set down his mug, laced both his arms around Sidon’s neck. He leaned into him, pressed his mouth softly against Sidon’s, eyes fluttering shut as he did. After a few seconds, he pulled away, pressed a handful of kisses to his cheek.

 

“I love you.” It came out as a sigh, his voice hushed and dreamy.

 

Sidon smiled. “I love you, too.”


End file.
